Reflections of Me
by kuschelirmel
Summary: pre first season: Sydney is on a mission to steal a statue from a London museum, but the heist doesn't go as planned. Crossover with Highlander, but can be read without knowing that fandom. Complete.


_**Author's Note: **_

_This FanFiction is a crossover between Highlander and Alias – if you've never seen the former you will still be able to follow along just fine, because it is written from Sydney's point of view. It takes place prior to the first Alias episode, meaning Sydney still thinks SD-6 is a covert branch of the CIA._

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**London****, May 2000**

Unclasping her security belt from the steel cable she had used to make it over from the neighbouring building, Sydney dropped silently onto the roof of the museum. The lights of the city below were unable to penetrate the darkness beyond outlining the pyramidal shapes of the skylights. Her footsteps would've been silent if it hadn't been for the gravel crunching beneath them as she made her way across the roof, locating the specific skylight Marshall had instructed her to use to get into the building.

An ambulance sounded in the distance, disturbing the relatively uniform hum of the city,while Sydney was concentrating on working the device Marshall had given her to override the electronic burglar alarm. Once done, she stuffed it back into her bag and used a laser cutter to create a hole big enough for her to slide through. She didn't have to worry about security cameras picking her up as she knew her partner would have take care of that by now.

"Dixon, I'm going in," Sydney reported through her com-link. "Going radio silent."

"Acknowledged," her partner replied. "The guard has just finished his tour, you've got thirty minutes."

Sydney switched off her com knowing the signal could interfere with the museum's security system. Using a grappling hook and some rope, she gently lowered herself into the building. Once on the ground, she unhooked herself and quickly crossed the dark hall. The beam of her flashlight illuminated empty displays scattered around the room like ghosts from a forgotten memory. Those near a scaffold to her left were covered with sheets against the dust or paint of the work crew that came in here by day.

She quickly made her way through a maze of corridors. Sydney knew the artefact she was looking for, a 15th century statue called _La Fioretta_, was located in a vault in one of the offices. It had arrived at the museum on that very same day. Tomorrow, it was to be processed and would thus officially enter the museum's collection.

Rounding a corner, Sydney came to a stop in front of a great wooden door that could well have been part of that collection had it not been for the electronic keypad mounted next to it. She was just reaching for the fake but functional key card in her backpack's side pocket when she noticed the light on the pad was glowing green, indicating the door had already been unlocked.

Sydney frowned and checked her tranquilizer gun before approaching the door. She opened it slowly, taking care not to make a sound, and peeked through into what looked like part library and part office. All along the sides were shelves filled with books. Two free-standing shelves partly obscured her view of a big mahogany desk, but she could peek through in between the books. A desk lamp was the only light source in the room, illuminating a man wearing a sweater too large for his frame who was sitting in a high backed office chair. Sydney had seen his type before – at university, always studying. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with short dark hair and a prominent nose which was just inches away from a small statue situated on the desk before him. Behind him, the safe door stood ajar.

She allowed herself to relax a little as the guy seemed to be completely enchanted by _La Fioretta_. Now all she had to do was to knock him out with the tranquilizer gun and she wouldn't even have to go to the trouble of breaking into the safe. As soon as she stepped out from behind the shelf to get a clear shot, Sydney pulled the trigger. She was poised to jump forward to grab the artefact the moment the tranquilizer did its job, but she didn't get that chance. The guy had ducked the dart and, in one swift movement, come out from behind the desk catching Sydney off guard for a split second.

Sydney lunged forward, lashing out with one foot and then the other, mentally kicking herself for letting herself being lulled into a false sense of security. The guy blocked her moves, retreating again. Sydney got the distinct impression he was testing her, because despite parrying her blows with ease, he did not make any move to attack her. Suddenly, he turned and grabbed his coat that had been flung carelessly over a chair off to the side.

"Are you leaving so soon?" Sydney tried to draw him out. Her mind was still going in circles over why the man was neither surprised by her attack nor was he doing anything to actually end it. Could he be an agent just like her? Looking like a grad student, but secretly working for god knows whom?

Ducking another one of her blows, he whirled around, the coat landing in a heap on the floor while the sharp blade of a broadsword came to rest at her throat. He sounded almost amused when he said, "I get bored easily."

The twinkling left his eyes as fast as it had come, though. "Take the statue and put it in the safe." He nodded towards the still open wall safe behind the desk.

Sydney glared at him briefly and then did as instructed, all the while looking for an opening she could use to regain control of the situation. The blade never left her neck, though. When she closed the safe's door and spun the lock, he took a step back. Fixing him with her gaze she rubbed her neck, her fingers smearing a tiny drop of blood across it. The cut had been very light, but she could still feel the sensation of the cold edge on her skin.

"Sit down," he pointed toward the chair where his coat had been concealing his sword earlier. She had no doubt that it indeed was _his_ sword. The way he held the archaic weapon led her to conclude as much. On top of that, she noticed that he looked relaxed despite having been surprised by what he had to assume was a burglar. He just stood there, leaning against the desk, holding the sword almost casually while she took a seat.

Sydney had expected him to phone the police or at the very least the night watchman, but the man didn't move. He just looked at her with the same kind of curiosity he had held for the statue earlier. As if she was something to be studied.

"Who are you?" he finally asked, not a trace of menace in his voice.

Sydney just glared at him. One of the first things she had learned working for the Agency was that you never admitted to anything, especially not your name and who you worked for.

"You're not going to say, are you?" It was not a question, he was merely stating a fact. Shrugging, he continued, "I presume you won't be telling me who you work for either?"

Sydney set her jaw defiantly, which didn't have the effect she had hoped for.

"It doesn't matter, I suppose," he continued unfazed and brought the sword up to point at her heart. "Whoever it is, tell them they can't have the statue."

Sydney kept a straight face while her mind was flooded with questions she couldn't answer. What made this guy so sure she was after the statue? And who was he to carry a sword in London in the 21st century? Most importantly though, how was she going to get out of this mess?

Instead of coming closer to her, the man turned abruptly, picking his coat up from the floor and draping it over the sword. Sydney had no idea why he would suddenly turn his back on her like that, but she wasn't going to question her stroke of luck. She was on her feet in the blink of an eye. An instant later she launched herself at the guy, intent on knocking him out and completing her mission.

Instead of hitting her target, though, she found herself spun around and shoved against the desk. The guy pressed the sword against her throat, this time with his arm bent so he could lean in closely. His eyes were just inches from hers when he hissed, "I'm not in the mood for games. I gave you an opportunity to leave. I suggest you take it."

Sydney swallowed dryly. Her nod was barely perceptible as she tried not to get cut.

He let her go and just when Sydney thought he couldn't surprise her any more, he started laughing. It was a genuine laugh and had she not just seen him hold a blade to her throat without even a trace of hesitation to use it in his steely eyes, she wouldn't have thought him capable of violence at all.

"Hell, don't you ever actually answer?" he asked her with a grin, startling Sydney out of her reverie.

"I'm not the talking kind," she winked finding his light mood infectious. Before he could change his mind about letting her go, she ran out of the room and toward her escape.

On the flight back to Los Angeles, Sydney was staring out of the plane's window at the landscape passing by below when Dixon nudged her.

"Would you like something to drink?" the stewardess asked her politely, probably not for the first time.

"Ah, yes, some water, please."

After the stewardess had handed Sydney a small bottle of water, a plastic cup and a napkin, Dixon looked at his partner questioningly.

"You've been awfully quiet," he ventured when the stewardess shifted her attention to another passenger. "It's not your fault we didn't get the statue. And it's not the end of the world either. Not this time anyway," he added with a wink.

"It's not just that," Sydney sighed. She arranged the cup next to the napkin on her tray and cumbersomely filled it with water. She wasn't quite sure how to explain the surreal quality of her encounter with 'the sword guy', as she had dubbed him for lack of an actual name. While she had told Dixon that she had run into a guy with a sword who was good enough with his weapon to make it impossible for her to fulfil her mission, Sydney had kept quiet about the details.

"Then what is it?" Dixon prodded gently.

Sydney looked at her partner whose curiosity seemed to be getting the better of him. If she didn't tell him, then who could she talk to anyway? Danny and her friends didn't even know what she did for a living.

"He let me go," she finally confessed. "I didn't find an opening to get away, he just told me to leave."

Dixon's curiosity made way for astonishment as he repeated, "he let you go?"

Sydney nodded. "I wasn't kidding when I said he was good. He could've slit my throat then and there," she shivered at the memory of cold steel against her neck.

"But he didn't," Dixon stated.

"No, he didn't," Sydney confirmed.

Silence fell over them as Dixon thought about the 'why' while Sydney pondered telling her partner what had bothered her even more than not knowing the sword guy's motivations. She finally decided against it. After all, Dixon had been with the Agency way longer than she had. He had become so accustomed to living in two worlds – one occupied by his family and one living as a spy – that Sydney didn't think he could relate to her doubts at all.

When she'd seen the grad student turn into the sword guy in the blink of an eye and revert back just as fast, she hadn't been able to help wondering if this was what others would see in her in a similar situation. Would her eyes look as cold as his? Would that transformation frighten her friends if they ever saw it?

She stared at her reflection in the window, but there was no trace of such hardness in her eyes. There was no way to know how this changed during a mission, though. Or how it would change with time.

_I will just have to wait and see,_ she thought. It wasn't a comforting conclusion, but the best she could do at the moment.

_~ The End ~ _

_... or not?_

- 7 -


End file.
